


emphatically so

by goodnightpuckbunny



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Loud Sex, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:32:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnightpuckbunny/pseuds/goodnightpuckbunny
Summary: They had done some things, but they hadn't fucked. Not properly. Of course, he likes Geno, but it's still Geno. It's weird to have sex with your friend and teammate of over a decade.





	emphatically so

Sid has been teaching Geno cribbage, which he learned himself visiting the veterans’ home in Cole Harbour that summer. It’s an old man’s game, and best for two. It involves some basic math, which Geno bitches about constantly, but otherwise crib is a simple game. Geno comes over to Sid’s hotel room and they sit together, late into the night. They don’t say much—just enjoy each other’s company. 

Geno rubs his jaw, concentrating on his cards. He’s in jeans and a long-sleeved cotton t-shirt now, stripped out of his suit. Sid tries not to think about that suit, tailored to fit him beneath his long tan jacket, no tie, shirt unbuttoned teasingly at the collar, looking tall and gorgeous, as always. He’d had his sunglasses on and didn’t even look at Sid as he’d stalked to the back of the plane. It's fine, because Sid gets this version of Geno instead: soft and rumpled, and halfway to sleep already. He even has his reading glasses on.

“Fifteen-two, fifteen-four,” Geno says, laying his cards on the little table between them. He pegs four spaces down the board. 

“That’s all?” Sid asks, looking over Geno’s hand. 

Geno shrugs, as if to say, _They’re shit, and there’s nothing I can do about it._ He doesn’t seem too bothered because he’s winning. Sid is not good at cards, nor is he especially lucky. 

Something bangs against the wall next door, and both of them startle, and then laugh. 

Sid lays down his own set of cards. “Fifteen-two, a pair, and the right jack,” he calls, moving his piece on the board, inching closer to Geno’s back peg. His hand could've been better, too. He flips over the crib to count, and the banging comes again from the neighboring room. “Jesus,” Sid curses. 

“Who’s there?” Geno asks Sid.

He can't remember, exactly. It's one of the younger guys—maybe one of the call-ups for injury. "Do you want me to tell him to tone it down?" Sid used to try to avoid flexing his position as captain, but he doesn't mind as much now. He's old and they all need peace and quiet, anyways.

But Geno shakes his head, and so Sid goes back to the game and scores another six points because the crib has two tens in it. Geno scoops up the cards and shuffles them for his deal; despite everything, he's still winning.

Then the racket from next door continues: a thump, laughter, shushing, and afterwards the unmistakable rhythmic thuding of a headboard against the wall.

Back when Sid was young, he'd never have even _thought_ of—well. They had roommates back then. Yet even if they hadn't, Sid wasn't the type to have one-night-stands on the road. Among other things, he would have been worried that someone would hear him, exactly like Sid was hearing it now. He really doesn't need to know what his teammates sound like moaning in pleasure. They honestly sound like yipping pomeranians next door. Tomorrow Sid will probably chirp the guy about it, but for now, it's horrendous.

"Do you think he knows he sounds like a dog getting kicked?" Sid asks.

"Sometimes you can't help," Geno replies, the barking next door undercutting his words. He grins and starts laying out the cards.

"Sure you can," Sid argues. "Just keep your mouth shut. It's not hard."

"Not if it's good."

"That?" Sid jerks his thumb at the wall. "That is _not_ top-tier fucking. Absolutely not."

Geno snorts and puts two cards in the crib. "Yes, we can do better."

Heat sweeps over the back of Sid's neck. He hadn't meant to turn it into a competition. "No."

"No?"

"I mean, no don't—of course we can do better." He hasn't even looked at his hand yet. 

Geno raises his eyebrows. "So?"

This thing between them is new—almost tentative. Geno had kissed him after their early exit from the playoffs the previous season, and then they'd barely spoken all summer. Geno came back from the break all tan and lean and devestating, but kept Sid at a friendly distance. Sid had been prepared to assume it was all nothing but some spur-of-the-moment thing. Then in October Geno had invited himself over to Sid's house and kissed him again, in the den, interrupting Sid's explanation of a doccumentary he'd been watching—and that was it.

They had done _some_ things, but they hadn't fucked. Not properly. Sid isn't nervous about it. It's just that the idea of it is weird to him, and he hasn't figured out whether it's the concept of anal sex or just _Geno_ that holds him back. Of course, he _likes_ Geno, but it's still Geno. It's weird to have sex with your friend and teammate of over a decade.

"So what?" Sid asks.

"So put cards in crib." Geno leans back in his chair and scratches under his shirt lazily. The hem rides up over Geno's pale belly, which Sid is begrudgingly partial to. 

Sid barely looks at his cards before throwing a two and _something_ else on top of Geno's cards in the crib. He leans over and cuts the deck. Geno doesn't move, but watches Sid all the same, his eyes hooded in that way that Sid knows is anything but sleepy. "Geno."

"You think it's hot in here?"

"Do you wanna play, or not?"

Geno flips the top card over—a seven of hearts. "Your turn," he says.

"Four." Sid lays down his four of spades.

"Eight," Geno counters, with a four of diamonds. "Pair is two." He moves his back peg two ahead of the front one. 

"Fourteen." It's a miracle Sid has any decent cards at all. It's a miracle he can do basic math, with Geno sitting across from him, slowly inching his hand into the waistband of his jeans. 

Geno smirks and lays down an ace. "Fifteen for two," he says, but doesn't bother pegging. He just looks right at Sid, and pushes his hand into his pants.

"Twenty-five." Sid plays his Queen of spades.

"Twenty-eight." A three.

"Thirty!" Sid crows. Shit, he should've kept that other two.

"Go," Geno allows, because he's already spent his ace.

Sid leans across to move his piece, but then Geno drops his hand of cards and graps Sid's wrist and pulls so that Sid has no choice but to brace himself against Geno's thigh as he falls forward. Then Geno's mouth is on his, and cribbage is a stupid game anyways.

Geno's lips are warm, and he kisses like he has all the time in the world—like he needs to savor every moment. It's always a little unbelievable every time he does it, but then Sid relaxes and gets into it, kind of desperate and clinging. There's never enough air and his lips always feel beestung when he breaks away for a breath, and then dives back in. 

The position he's holding _is_ uncomfortable, though. "I'm gonna go get on the bed," Sid says.

He hesitates about pulling the covers back. If he does, is it an invitation to go further? If he _doesn't_ , is he being too shy? It's ridiculous. He's in his thirties and should know what he wants; he yanks the blanket down to the foot of the bed and sits down on the edge. 

Geno follows, kissing him again like there wasn't even a break in the action. He pushes Sid backwards, craddling his head sweetly until it hits the pillows. His glasses are gone, and Sid almost asks him to put them back on. They're kind of a pain to work around while they're kissing, but Sid still likes them. Sid probably has made out with Geno more than he's done with anyone, even as a teenager, but Geno seems to really enjoy it. And it's safe. And nice. And also pretty hot when Sid sets his teeth against Geno's plush lower lip, making him gasp just slightly. 

Sid has been trying to tune out the moaning next door, but they seem to be reaching some kind of peak. "Jesus, shut up," he complains as Geno shifts on top of him. 

"You just be louder."

"I'm not getting into a sex noise competition." 

"Could be fun." Geno says, and then frowns. He ducks down suddenly, lifts Sid's shirt, and blows a raspberry right over his belly button.

Sid shrieks, and jerks, and kicks Geno between the legs. 

Geno goes very still. 

"Oh God," Sid says. He touches Geno's shoulder. "Are you—"

"Ow," he replies, but there's no pain in his tone. Then he laughs, and then Sid is laughing, and then Geno is back up, lying on top of Sid, his chest shaking. 

"Sorry," Sid murmurs into Geno's hair. 

"Two minutes for kneeing, Crosby." 

They end up kissing again, after a few false starts where one of them starts giggling again. Sid spreads his legs so Geno is cradled between Sid's thighs, safely out of injury-distance. Geno holds Sid's head in his hands, thumbing over his cheekbones and against the grain of the little hairs next to his ears. He kisses Sid's chin, and then the tender spot below his jaw that aches when it rains.

He can't help the noise he makes when Geno sucks on his neck, but at least they're quiet, happy sighs. Sid is prety much sensitive all over.

Geno rocks against him, erection thick and hard in his jeans. It keeps bumping Sid's ass, which is unnerving as much as it is hot. 

"Are you gonna—" Sid starts, just when Geno sucks harder on Sid's neck, and a whine comes out of Sid's open mouth. He can feel Geno smirking against him. He swats Geno's ass in retaliation, but then Geno nips at Sid's earlobe. It's a whole _other_ sensation that makes Sid's dick twitch in his pants because of how typically _Geno_ that move is. Brat.

"Gonna?"

"Are you gonna do anything?" 

"I'm do something." Geno runs his tongue along Sid's jaw, as if to prove his point.

"Barely. Come on," Sid complains.

But Geno only curls his fingers in the hem of Sid's shirt and rucks it up, under his armpits. "So pink," Geno says, thumbing over one of Sid's nipples. "Soft."

Sid sucks in a breath, but it's not until Geno leans down and puts his mouth around it that he truly moans. It always feels like something is tugging at him from deep inside when Geno does this. He threads his fingers into Geno's hair and holds him there, and Geno gets the message, sucking and licking. Sid pinches the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it. "Yeah," Sid sighs, "that's it."

Geno palms down Sid's ribs where Sid is normally pretty ticklish, but right now it just feels good, like a buzzing sensation traveling across his skin. "Sid," Geno murmurs against his chest. 

"Don't stop." He probably can't come like this, but life is about the journey, or something.

"Sid," Geno says again, almost whining, "I want."

Sid gentles his hand in Geno's hair. "What?" He asks.

"Want you inside me," Geno says, and oh god, that— "Fuck me, please."

His toes curl at the thought of it, and the images of it come at him hard and fast. Geno spreading his legs for Sid, open and waiting for him. Geno, braced above him, riding Sid until his face goes red. Geno in Sid's lap. Geno on his stomach. Geno coming all over himself untouched, clenching around Sid's cock. 

Sid has to shove Geno away, get some space between them, because it's suddenly too much. Sid wants all of it so bad. Why hadn't he thought of it before? Geno was always so pushy, and demanding; Sid had just _assumed_.

Geno leans up on his knees, and unbuttons his jeans, jerks the zipper down, and then eases his cock out. It's fully hard, and red and a little shiny, and Sid's mouth is suddenly watering for it. He sits up and wraps his hand around it. It's so hot, too, and Sid licks at the head. Geno groans, loud. Sid should stop because the whole floor doesn't need to know, but instead he just bobs his head, taking as much of the length as he can into his mouth. He sucks away the salty taste, and enjoys the texture of it on his tongue. 

"You make me wait so long. Why?" Geno whines and flexes his hips, pushing his cock just a little more into Sid's mouth.

Sid tucks his fingers into Geno's pockets and tries to pull his jeans down, but the waistband gets stuck around Geno's ass and they have to stop for a minute, desperately taking clothes off and throwing them off the bed. Sid misses a sock, but it doesn't matter when Geno is pushing Sid back down and hungrily taking his mouth. 

"I want so bad," Geno says, and moans when Sid finds his cock again and starts jerking him off. Sid presses against the back of Geno's thigh, right by the crease of his ass, encouraging him to thrust into the circle of his fingers, which Geno does. "Your cock so thick and I think it's perfect, and I want it so bad. I use fingers but it's not enough."

"How long?" Sid asks, sliding his hand up, pressing between Geno's cheeks. 

"Years," Geno admits. There's a wild glimmer in his eyes threatening to spill over. "Forever, I don't know. _Sid!_ "He yelps when Sid circles his fingers around that tight furl. "Where's lube?"

"I don't have any." He has some at home, though it's pretty old. He didn't bring it with him on purpose, but he's mad at himself now. 

Geno whimpers, and there are actual tears in his eyes now. God, he's so desperate for it. 

Sid takes his hand away from Geno's hole, slides it up Geno's back instead. "You've wanted my dick for years and you didn't think to bring lube?" He teases. Geno shakes his head. Sid tightens his grip around Geno's cock, slightly slippery now, so the glide is easier. "Next time if you come over already greased up, and I'll fuck you against the door," Sid promises.

"Ah!" Geno gasps, and Sid thinks he's about to come, so he lets go. 

"Get on your stomach," Sid says. 

Geno does it, although he's shaking, a fine tremor. Sid pushes Geno's knees apart until there's room for him to lie between Geno's legs. Then he slides his hand beneath Geno where his hand is trapped between his stomach and the sheets, and cups his hand around it. With his left hand, he thumbs at Geno's cheeks, prying them apart as much as he can. Then he presses his face against Geno's ass, and licks.

It's not as easy as it should be. Geno jolts and cries out, his cock twitching in Sid's hand, and he practically bucks Sid right off him. Sid's tongue is maybe not long enough—Geno's ass is huge and all muscle. He could have used both hands, but he's committed now. He goes in again, using what leverage he has to keep Geno from moving too much. He licks across Geno's hole with just the tip of his tongue, but from the sound of his moaning, Geno loves it.

"Do you think that I could get you wet enough that I could just slide in after you come?" Sid asks.

"Sid," Geno groans, "please."

The thought of pushing inside Geno bare when he's still tight and barely slick is unbearable, so Sid goes back to focusing on the task at hand. It takes maybe a dozen passes of his tongue and gently sliding his palm over the underside of Geno's cock before Geno is moaning, low, long, and loud, and spilling all over himself. 

Geno is gasping, his breaths wet, so Sid lets go of him. He leans back and wipes his hand against the sheets. 

Then Geno flips over onto his back. He looks—god. _Incredible_. His eyes are red, and he's pink down his chest, all the way to his cock, which lies softening against his hip. He's slicked with come all over his belly. He looks filthy and angelic. Sid wants to rub himself all over him.

"Come," Geno says. He sucks two fingers into his mouth, and Sid gets the picture.

He crawls up the bed, and then straddles Geno's head. His cock hurts now that he's thinking about it. This isn't going to take long. "God, _Geno_."

Geno laves his tongue behind Sid's balls, already drawn up tight, while Sid strokes himself off. He's too desperate to be quiet, and he lets out so many noises as he gets closer to climax. He comes as Geno licks him where his nerves are already so sensitive, shouting, and shooting up his chest.

Sid sags for a moment, resting his weight on Geno and maybe crushing him to death, but then he rolls off. He grabs a handful of tissues from the nightstand, tossing roughly half onto Geno's chest, and using the rest to mop at the mess he's made of himself. Then he collapses next to Geno. 

"That was good, eh?" Sid asks. He pillows his head against Geno's collar. Geno kisses the top of his head.

"Pretty loud," Geno comments, and then snickers. 

Oh, god. Sid had forgotten about their neighbors. They're suspicioiusly quiet now. "Fuck," Sid says, and throws his arm over his eyes. 

"Hey." Geno pokes him in the stomach. "I have things in my room. We can still fuck."

Sid groans. "I can't go twice in one night. Plus we have a game tomorrow."

Geno huffs, clearly disappointed, but Sid doubts he can get it up again either. "Okay, fine."

"Next time," Sid says. 

"Tomorrow."

"If we win."

"You can say sorry if we lose," Geno offers. "Fuck my ass so slow and sweet."

"Yeah," Sid says. " _If_ we win."

"We win tomorrow and you have to lick me before every game," Geno counters.

Sid laughs, but depending on how the game goes, he knows he'll probably end up making a routine out of it. "Alright," he says. "Deal." 

**Author's Note:**

> There's actually nothing remotely sexy about the game of cribbage.


End file.
